I saw him at dinner today.
Kind of like Smeagol
From Lord of The Rings.
His bald head, with odd dangles of hair,
And deeply sunken eyes -
Spoke of one thing only
Through dinner, we exchanged many glances.
Although seated on different tables,
I felt as though we were having a private conversation.
Suspend time - I felt his reality
And he, mine.
The very life that I cheapen each day,
He seemed to add worth to.
Would I trade places with him?
At the first given chance.
Dear Man in Yellow Shirt,
You're a hero - my savior.
For you live even as you die,
While this cheapened self
Dies while living.
- On learning that sunshine comes from the darkest of places